


You Matter To Me

by smittenkippen17



Category: Andi Mack (TV)
Genre: M/M, Romance, Slow Burn, cuteness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2018-09-12
Packaged: 2019-07-11 08:15:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15968342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smittenkippen17/pseuds/smittenkippen17
Summary: Sometimes I wonder if I’m ever gonna matter. If one day, I’ll wake up and want to get out of bed cuz I can make a difference. I’ve always thought the only marks I could leave were scars, but what if I’m wrong?





	You Matter To Me

**Author's Note:**

> SLOW BURN, trying out a new writing style, and so this fic is kinda an experiment. I would love some feedback!!!

Sometimes I wonder if I’m ever gonna matter. If one day, I’ll wake up and want to get out of bed cuz I can make a difference. I’ve always thought the only marks I could leave were scars, but what if I’m wrong? My John-Green-Esque emo breakdown is interrupted by a knock on my door. It seems odd, since I’m in my room, home alone at 10pm. I grab a pair of arts & crafts scissors, ready to attack this murderer who is apparently polite enough to knock before finishing his victims, when I realize the sound isn’t coming from the door. It’s coming from the window. 

I walk over to my second story window, opening it just in time for a small pebble to fly through, narrowly missing my face. I’m hit with a temporary wave of confusion, and I’m immediately convinced that I’m either being pranked or some genius romantic has the wrong house, when I hear my nickname called out through the soft hum of a suburban night.

“Underdog!” A familiar voice shouts. “Can you open your front door?” He yells again. Adding a quick “This is TJ” for good measure. Really. I stick a thumbs up out the window, rushing down the stairs to unlock the front door, only making a brief pit stop to fix my hair and face. Sadly, pouring excessive gel on it only helps one of those problems. I reach the door, unlocking it and opening it, revealing a very wet TJ.

“Dude, why are you here at 10pm covered in rain?” I say, as casually as I can manage while simultaneously noticing TJ’s bespectacled face. Damn he’s cute in glasses. Well not just glasses. Like, always.

“Well I’m covered in rain cuz it’s raining.” He deadpans. “And I’m really sorry to show up here so late, my parents are just fighting again and I know you told me I could come here if that happened and-” I cut off his rambling with a ridiculously tight hug, which was just made weirder by the fact that he was wet, and has now passed that wetness on to me. 

“Shit I’m really sorry.” I half whisper in his ear. I could hear his breath hitch, and for a millisecond I thought he was crying before he choked out the words “too tight” and I release him from my apparently vice like grip.

“Thanks Cy.” He responds, faking pain from the sheer strength of my embrace. “But maybe looser on the hug next time.” I blush.  
“Oh come on, you know I’m a good hugger.”

“I don’t know, after that I don’t know if you’re a good hugger, or a really good professional wrestler.” I chuckle at his statement. I wouldn’t have minded a sappy moment about his stuff, but I can see he’s not ready to share, and that’s fine by me. Plus he’s extra funny when he’s bottling things up. Literally chandler from friends.

“You wanna come in? Dry off?” I say, ushering him like the true Mom that I am.

“Thanks.”

“My pleasure.”

“I kinda doubt you enjoyed hugging a sopping wet guy who randomly showed up at your door.”

“You don’t know me.”

“I think most people don’t enjoy soggy hugs” 

“Smart ass.” I can’t help but smile at how easy our conversation is. I mean, we met in grade 7 / 8, so we’ve known eachother like 2 and a half years, but still. It was never like this with Jonah when I liked him. Not that I like TJ, king of heterosexuals or anything. It just makes sense as a comparison. Just a comparison. 

“My ass is actually very smart, as well as perky, and plump.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Cyrus Evelyn Goodman WATCH YOUR FUCKING PROFANITY” I couldn’t stop myself from letting out a booming laugh, causing me to double over and clutch my stomach. I looked up to see TJ with a hand clutched over his mouth, pure fear in his eyes. It was quite confusing, until I realised he probably thought my parents were home.

“Teej you’re fine. My parents are gone til sunday night. Anniversary weekend or something.” I said, smirking as I watched the boy opposite me relax. Jesus Christ he looks cute. And wet. Maybe I should get him like a towel or somethi- “Do you want a towel by the way?” I interrupt my own thoughts, directing my attention back towards those mesmerizing green eyes. They light up, and I decide that TJ reminds me of a golden retriever. Loveable, Hyper, Loyal, So FUCKING CUTE.   
“YES!” He yells, practically jumping up and down and just proving my point about TJ being a lil puppy dog. Note to self; become rapper named lil puppy dog.  
“Wooh!” I cheer, before sprinting up the stairs. Okay… Maybe we’re both puppy dogs.  
***  
It was kinda simplistic the effect those green eyes had on me. Like they pulled and pushed me, calling me while holding a big red stop sign right to my face. Although usually while they’re on me, my thoughts are more jumbled with questions than arranged into thoughts. What’s happening? Why is he looking at me that way? That stare that always made me feel so safe and chronically vulnerable, at the some time. My salvation and my purgatory. It was two in the morning, and despite the dreary eyes of my companion, I felt weirdly present. More awake and alive every second. But my eyes had other plans. I finally sighed, blinking and succumbing to my pupil burning urges. He quietly cheered, before flopping onto the bed in front of him, his eyes shutting almost immediately as he fell into sleep. But my eyes were still open, cause even his closed eyes were more beautiful than anything else in the room. (Holy shit, I’m poetic at 2 in the morning). It’s like I have nowhere to look without those emerald orbs, so I looked through his eyelids, my memory kicking in and revealing them to me, almost as real as if he was actually staring back.

“Why are you staring like that?” I jumped at his question as I realized that my tired mind had not produced his eyes, because they were really open. Great. He raised his eyebrow questioningly, the hint of a grin playing on his lips.

“I’m not.” I said, because in my fatigued brain, simply denying an obvious fact was the logical course of action here.

“You were.” He said. Poignant.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“You really were.” He paused, shifting so his head was upside down, nearly resting on my knee.

“Well, no I wasn’t” Goddamnit am I trying to prove it to myself at this point?

“Confidence looks good on you.” And now my blush was definitely showing, glowing through the dimly lit room to reflect off of his glassy irises. “But lying doesn’t.” he finished, smirking that bright white toothed smirk at me before grabbing a large pillow from behind his back. 

“What are you doing?” I asked, my heart sinking as he started building himself into what looked like some kind of pillow cocoon. 

“I need to protect myself from your prying eyes.” He returned, poking his head over that accursed wall made up of all things fluffy. 

“My eyes aren’t prying thank you very much. They knock politely, AND THEN come in. Besides, I wasn’t staring.”

“You were.”

“No.”

“Yeah.”

“Nope.”

“Look, I’m sorry about the pillow wall. I know you wanted a quick spoon sesh, but you just haven’t been on your best behaviour.”

“You’re an asshole.” I responded once more. However, both of us were chuckling, alleviating all possible tension that could be felt at 2:13 in the morning. Which happened to be, it turns out, not very much. And leaning against that accursed wall of pillows, knowing he was there on the other side, staring up at the same blank ceiling above us, feeling his heartbeat through the mattress. It was enough. Well, spooning would’ve been nice, but I GUESS this is fine.   
Great last thoughts before falling asleep.  
***  
I woke up to a soft humming, coming from the other side of the queen bed. It seemed the pillow wall had seriously deteriorated through the night, so I could see fragments of the boy across the bed from me. Humming some old 60’s rock song I almost recognized, he laid on his back, hands behind his head and eyes idling the line between closed and open. I knew I was staring again, but it was kind of amazing to see him in such a raw way. People seem to be the most themselves when they think they’re unobserved. 

“Hey Cy.” I heard as the humming stopped. Shit. Maybe I wasn’t being subtle after all. “Sleep well?” He asked, sitting up and leaning over what was left of his fluffy enclosure. 

“You’re totally rocking the bed head.” He went on teasingly, reaching over and running a hand through my messy brown hair. 

“T-Thanks Teej.” I spoke back, trying to play my stutter off as fatigue instead of nerves. “Would you believe I woke up like this?” I quipped, laughing in spite of myself. I’m just too damn hilarious. 

“Not for a second.” He stopped, staring at me for a second.”I’m pretty sure you had a secret alarm set for like-” He paused, trying to think of an unreasonable time in the morning. But I mean, for teenagers on a Saturday, that was anytime before 10. “6 in the morning, just so you could wake up like this.”

“In your dreams I would get up at 6 am for you.” I said, ruffling his hair back. But doing that made me realize… He was now close enough to me, on a bed, that I could RUFFLE HIS HAIR. “Besides, you were up before me. And you came up with that theory weirdly quick.”

“Oh whatever.” He said. But he was smiling, so it was good. We were now lying inches apart, facing each other. He opened his lips briefly, like he was going to say something, but seemed to think better of whatever it was. Just letting the weirdly comfortable silence rest in the air as we stared. “Thanks again for letting me over Cy.” He half whispered, a goofy smirk gracing his face. “I should get home soon though. Check on Amber.” He added.

“Whyyyy?” I whined. 

“Becauseeee.” He whined back.

“That’s a horrible answer.”

“You’re a horrible answer.”

“Very clever.” 

“Thank you.” He said taking a second to display his crooked smile before grabbing his signature baseball cap and rushing out the door. “Bye Underdog!” He shouted enthusiastically, already making his way down the stairs by now.

“Bye!” I shouted, even though there was very little chance he would hear me. Smooth Cyrus… So. Fucking. Smooth.  
I buried my head in a pillow, the overwhelming need to scream at myself taking over. I mean, I didn’t. I’m not a bad 80’s high school drama. But I REALLY wanted to. What a mess. What a fucking sexy, cute, funny, sexy mess.


End file.
